


It’s My Life

by Catsintheattic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Feminist Themes, Gen, Is there only one way to be a good little feminist?, Motherhood, Post-Hogwarts, Unplanned Pregnancy, Work and Family, career choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-01
Updated: 2011-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-06 23:24:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsintheattic/pseuds/Catsintheattic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginny has it all. But she wants out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It’s My Life

“Ginny, it’s just like you thought.” The mediwitch put her wand away and smiled at Ginny, a bright smile that made her eyes crinkle in the corners. “After one or two children, most women know the signs by themselves.” She paused for a moment, a chance for Ginny to react to the news. When Ginny stayed silent, she continued. “With two healthy boys, I suppose you and your husband are hoping for a little girl this time, right?” 

She glanced at Ginny’s face, and whatever she saw there must have prompted her to say the next words. “Don’t worry, my dear. We got you through the other pregnancies as well. Keep a healthy diet and lay off the extra training and the swan dives for the last three months and you’ll be back on a broom in no time. This wee one won’t even make a dent in your career.” 

Ginny nodded, and forced herself to smile back. 

“Now, that’s all for today. I’ll see you again in a week. I guess you can’t wait to tell Harry the good news.” 

Ginny stepped off the examination table and walked behind the folding screen to dress. 

_Good news, my arse._

***

Ginny sat down on the bench in front of her locker and inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a moment or two. The smell of broom polish and old leather was comforting, and it felt good to have at least a few minutes to herself before her team-mates arrived, to simply sit and breathe in the familiar scents of her career. This had been her life for the last seven years since she had left Hogwarts, flying as a Seeker for the Holyhead Harpies, pregnancies or not. But with the news from this morning’s visit, she would have to make arrangements for Angie to take over the position as first Seeker on the team.

Ginny balled her hands into fists, felt the calluses on her palms rub against her fingertips. It wasn’t that she really begrudged Angie the position. But still, stepping down never felt completely right, like she was letting down the team.

The door to the changing room opened with a bang. Serena, Emily and Hester came in, laughing. “Hi, Gin,” Serena said, “you’re in early.”

Ginny forced her face into a smile she didn’t feel. “Yeah, I had an appointment this morning.”

“Still looking for a flat in London?”

Ginny nodded. They had been considering a move from Godric’s Hollow to a more central place. But the house had enough rooms to quarter the whole extended family, and that was certainly a plus. When they grew older, the boys would love the countryside with its endless possibilities for mischief; just like Ginny and her brothers, they would be outside most days and come home only when the sun set. So in the end, Harry and she had decided against it. But it was an easy answer to give Serena, and Ginny didn’t feel like discussing the true reasons for her early start.

***

Practice was demanding and helped her clear her head. Ginny felt ready to tackle the remainder of the day, but when she Apparated back to Godric’s Hollow she could hear Albus Severus bawling at the top of his voice. Ginny took him from the arms of Alice, Albus’s clearly distressed nanny.

“What’s all the fuss about, my little grumpy pea?” she cooed and started dancing with him through the living room.

“He missed you,” said Alice. “Not to mention that his naughty brother wouldn’t stop interrupting his afternoon nap-time.”

Ginny glanced around and found James Sirius peeking at her from behind the couch. “You,” she beckoned, “come here.” He made his way across the room and Ginny knelt down and gave him a one-armed hug, while keeping the baby safe at her hip. “You’d like to play with your brother, wouldn’t you?”

James gave her a toothy grin. “He sleeps. All. The. Time.” He fumbled with the hem of his sleeve. “I waked him. Wanted to make him more fun.” 

Ginny tickled his tummy, causing James to break into a giggle-fit. “I know you’d like to play with Albus, but you have to wait a bit more, until he’s a little older. Right now, he still needs to grow, eat and sleep a lot. So, no more interrupting his naps. All right?”

James pouted, but then gave her a nod. “Ri-ight.”

Ginny smiled. “Now I see a great older brother. I had six – I know a thing or two about them.”

When she stood up, she saw that Alice was looking at her, frowning. “Is anything wrong?” Ginny asked.

Alice shook her head, but her lips were pressed together so that lines showed around her otherwise pretty young mouth. 

“Alice, if you have something to say, please do. After all, I rely on you to take care of my boys while Harry and I are out.”

Alice opened her mouth, then closed it, and opened it again. When she spoke, her voice sounded like she was reciting a well rehearsed speech. “I was just wondering why you would reward James for misbehaviour, that’s all.”

“Misbehaviour? I would hardly call curiosity and wanting to play ‘misbehaviour’, don’t you think so?”

“But he keeps interrupting Albus’s nap-time. And all you do is make him feel good about it.” The frown was back on Alice’s face.

“Make him feel good? Alice, he’s two years old. What do you think I should do with him?” Ginny felt her face heat up in anger. 

Alice shrugged. “I don’t—” she broke off. “I’m sorry.”

Ginny eyed her coolly. “I don’t want my sons to be intimidated. James has done nothing wrong, and he’ll understand that Albus is still a little young for playing if we take the time and patience to explain it to him.”

***

It was half past eleven at night when Harry returned from the Ministry. Ginny had sent Alice home and put the boys to bed, then forced herself to eat a pear. Fruit was good for her, but the true food cravings hadn’t yet started. Instead, she had felt too tired to do anything useful and too antsy to fall asleep. When she finally heard the creak of the door and Harry’s footfalls on the stair, she began to relax. He was home. She could share the news.

She listened to the sounds of him cleaning himself up and waited until he tiptoed into their bedroom to sneak under the covers.

“I’m still awake.”

The mattress dipped a little under his weight. “Hey,” he asked, “what’s up?”

“A lot. I couldn’t sleep.”

He had turned on his side, facing her, but he didn’t reach out to touch. “Something about your appointment this morning at the mediwitch’s?”

“Hmhm. I’m pregnant.” She stared upwards at the ceiling. It still didn’t feel real. But after talking with Harry, it would.

She felt his fingers sneaking up into her hair, a playful caress. He didn’t say anything.

“Hey, did you hear?”

“Yeah. Are you happy?”

“Of course I’m happy. Are you?”

He laughed softly. “I always wanted many children, Gin, you know that. I just ... you sound so tired, not like when you told me about James, or Albus.”

She shrugged. “It’s been a long day. And I had to tell off Alice on top of it. I sometimes wonder what she thinks, or if she thinks at all.”

Ginny launched into a tale about what had happened with Alice and the boys, and Harry listened, only interrupting her with questions when he wanted more details. 

“It’s such a silly idea to be angry at James for wanting to play with his little brother. I’m relieved that he hasn’t been jealous towards Albus. All he wants is to play with him, and if he gets a little impatient on some days, that’s not something I want to see him scolded for by a nanny who clearly has a different perspective on raising children.”

Harry cleared his throat. “Well, then let’s get a new nanny, if this one isn’t good enough.”

“It’s not as if she’s the first one we tried. The others were even worse, and it’s not good for the boys to have a change of their carer every other month. They need stability. And now that we’ve a third one on the way ...”

Harry shifted on his side of the bed, and Ginny heard what he didn’t say.

“Don’t even think about it. I won’t ask Mum to help out. All she’ll do is preach to me about how it’s not possible to have a career and be a mother at the same time. Of course she’d take the boys, and yes, she’d take good care of them. But I don’t want them to be told that their mum’s neglecting them because she’s too busy having fun on a broomstick.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Harry mumbled.

“But you were about to.” Ginny punched the mattress. She knew she wasn’t being entirely fair, but she was so sick of having to defend herself on all fronts. Why couldn’t Harry be more practical? Why did all the nannies have to be old-fashioned crones, even if they were under twenty-five? Why did her mother’s favourite sentence have to be ‘I told you so’?

Ginny turned around to face Harry in the darkness. His hair stuck out in all directions, and she reached over to smooth it down. “Look,” she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to take it out on you. It’s just ...” 

“Hey, Gin.” Harry rubbed his head against her hand like a big dog content to be petted, then scooted closer and took her in his arms. “We’ll figure it out. Like we always do. All right?” His kiss landed on the shell of her ear, and he whispered, “I hope it’s a girl this time.”

Ginny leaned her cheek against his chin, felt the scratch of his stubble against her skin and breathed in his scent. All of him was familiar; he was the man who made her feel safe, the man she loved. She lifted her face and kissed his lips, softly first, and then with an increasing surge of want.

***

“A new baby? That’s wonderful news, dear. I’m so happy for you. And for Harry, too; he always wanted a large family.”

Molly Weasley pursed her lips, pulled up her eyebrows a tiny fraction, and tilted her head as if leaning in for a closer inspection of her daughter. Ginny recognised the signs. It was her mother’s face when she wanted to make a statement and held only back because she was still collecting her full power for the fight that would ensue. 

“Of course you’d continue with your career. And why wouldn’t you, now that everything is going so well.”

That tone ... Her mother had mastered the ability of letting the last words dangling in the air, an invitation for Ginny to take the bait and either jump headlong into an argument or wait for the next blow. Whatever Ginny did, Molly would have her say. But at least Ginny could lessen the ferocity of their clash. Harry could never understand how easy it was for her and her mother to butt heads. But then, he never went through adolescence with an overbearing mother at his side. Harry and the boys wouldn’t be happy about another falling-out. Ginny stayed silent, trying her best not to pour oil on the flames of an age-old fight. 

Molly had begun to set up water for tea. “Though I can’t help wondering ... It might be a lot of work, taking care of three children from a broomstick in the air.”

“We’ve got a nanny,” Ginny said through gritted teeth. She wouldn’t give in to the temptation, she wouldn’t. 

“About that: I fire-called a few days back and James told me Alice scolded him for wanting to play with Albus.”

“It wasn’t like that. Alice was angry because James interrupted Albus’s nap-time. And I told her that I don’t want her to scold him for wanting to play with his little brother.” 

Now she even had to defend Alice against her mum’s attack. Ginny felt her temper rise, but the last several years of professional Quidditch had her taught valuable lessons about keeping it in check, and so she breathed low and relaxed her shoulders. 

“Yes, Ginny, but do you really think that this is the appropriate carer for your children: a woman who doesn’t even let them play? If they turn out any way like the twins, I see no end to trouble. Not every child can be like Bill or Percy, and even Bill ...”

It’d be a lot less bad if Ginny had not thought exactly the same thoughts just a few days ago. Alice taught lessons Ginny didn’t want her boys to learn. She was already overwhelmed with two children, and there was no telling if she’d even stay to take care of a third – no matter how desirable a position with the Potters might be. 

“... and I can’t see why you refuse to let them stay with us while you’re working. It’s almost as if you thought I was a bad mother.”

There, again. Molly had reached the point where guilt-tripping Ginny about her children wasn’t enough to get a rise out of her. So she took the blame to the next level. Ginny threw a secret glance at her wristwatch. _And it didn’t even take her until we had our tea. That must be a new record._

“I don’t think that you’re a bad mother,” she murmured, as if on auto-pilot. Maybe, if she gave non-challenging answers, she would be saved the last stage of abandonment issues and self-pity. Anger growled in the pit of her stomach. All of this – her mum’s nagging, her own suppressed aggression – it was bad for the baby. Time to let prejudice play to her advantage. Again she looked at her watch, this time a lot more openly. 

“Oh dear, Mum, I forgot: I have an appointment with my personal coach in about an hour. I have to dash.”

She stood and switched on what Stan, the team's photographer, called her Incendio-smile. It made for the best promotional pictures. “Bye, Mum. I’m so sorry that I can’t stay any longer. But at least I got to tell you the good news.”

Ginny was out of the door so fast her mother didn’t even find the time for another disapproving look.

***

“I want my elephant!” James yelled at the top of his voice. He was red in the face and looked ready to combust.

Ginny shook her head. “I don't have it. We left it back home, because you wanted to bring the giraffe.”

“Stupid giraffe!” James banged the stuffed giraffe against the trunk of the tree where Ginny had spread their picnic blanket. When he pulled back his arm for the next move, it sailed precariously close to Albus, who lay next to Ginny in a warm bundle on the blanket. “I want my elephant.”

Two elderly women walked by with a dog on a leash. The one with the frilly hat took one look at the scene under the tree and her face elongated with disapproval. 

Of course, it was precisely that moment when Albus, usually such a sunny baby, chose to wake up into a full screaming fit.

Ginny picked him up. “Hush, darling, hush.” She gently rocked him on her shoulder, while trying to fumble his bottle out of their picnic-basket. “Are you hungry, my little pea? Dinner's coming.”

“I want my elephant!” It was almost unbelievable, but James managed to raise his voice even louder than before. This time, the giraffe hit Ginny in the head. Albus wailed. 

Ginny had had enough. “James-Sirius, if you don't stop your screaming-fit right this instant, we're going home. We won't wait for your dad to finally leave the Ministry and join us outside. Instead, we'll fly back home and clean up the house, your room included. Which is probably what we should have done in the first place. Naughty boys like you don't deserve a treat!”

The sudden silence made her stop mid-rant. James stood, his mouth slightly open, lower lip trembling. The unwanted giraffe hung limply in his grip, its ears touching the ground. 

“Mummy?” James's voice had gone from loud and stubborn to small and intimidated. 

The pang of guilt was immediate and unstoppable. Ginny spread out the arm that wasn't holding Albus. “Hey,” she said, “come to me.” 

James stepped into her embrace. “Are you mad with me?”

Ginny felt his hot face press against her shoulder. He was sweaty and sticky and yet she couldn’t love him more. He trembled, and she held him a little tighter. She wouldn't lie. “Maybe a little,” she murmured. “I'm not too crazy about the screaming.”

But it was more than that, and she knew it. It was the tension of trying to be everywhere at once, of spending time with her children even when she knew she should be practising her new moves, and of putting in an extra-hour of Quidditch in the evening when she’d rather be at home. She never was where she thought she had to be, feeling guilty all the time, as if every moment was spent doing the wrong things. She was reacting instead of taking charge, and that was never a good strategy – not on a broomstick and not in her personal life. Besides, it wasn't like her to threaten her children, and the thought that she was turning into someone she was not was especially unnerving. Most of these days, she didn’t even take the time to ask herself what she really wanted. 

_Wrong. All of this is wrong._

***

Over the next few weeks, Ginny kept her secret, slowly adjusting to the thought of the new baby. A girl would be lovely, indeed, she decided.

Then the first Saturday of April came, and with it, the monthly tea she always had with Hermione. It was all theirs – free of husbands, children, and relatives – though their families were present in their conversations as often as their careers or the gossip about what was happening in the wizarding world at large. 

When they had both had placed their orders with the smiling waiter – Hermione enjoyed green Japanese leaves these days, while Ginny went with the traditional creamed tea in a whistling tea-cup – Hermione took one critical look at Ginny. “You have news,” she said, and leaned back in her chair, giving Ginny ample time to report.

“I’m going to have another baby,” Ginny said.

The next moment, Hermione jumped up and swept her into a hug.

“Oh my, that’s wonderful! I suppose you want a girl this time, right? Have you talked to your manager already? How will you deal with the European Quidditch Cup this summer? What does your mediwitch say? Aren’t you excited? You’re such a great example to all the young witches.”

Ginny let the staccato of her friend’s questions wash over her. It was so like Hermione to take the news in stride, jumping immediately to practical issues and pondering the implications for society as a whole. She had always had a tendency to look at the larger picture, but now, with her position at the Ministry, this particular trait took over easily.

“Ginny? Are you listening? Which week are you in?”

“Six.” 

Hermione had scooted to the front of her seat and was waving her wand over a sheet of paper. 

“What are you doing?” Ginny leaned forward to take a look at Hermione’s sheet.

“I’ve just conjured a time-table for your pregnancy. I used a similar one when I was expecting Rose, and it was such a great help to keep track of everything.” Hermione gave a little cluck of her tongue, something that indicated how very satisfied she was with a project. “It took me a while to convince the mediwitch to teach me the spell, but in the end, she had to admit that it was easier if I was able to keep my own schedule. 

“Here.” Hermione handed the crisp sheet over to Ginny. “I’ve marked all your team’s important games. I don’t know about the promotional activities you signed up for, so you’d have to add them to the list. Show this to your mediwitch and she’ll be able to figure out the best way to combine your practices, the games and your health-care for the baby.”

Ginny stared at rows indicating the different months, and the colour-coded columns for various activities. The baby would be due in November, right after the start of the Quidditch season. The thought was even more overwhelming that the colour-scheme. Ginny felt Hermione watching her closely. The least she could do was say thanks. 

“That’s ... great. Thanks a lot.” Ginny smiled. If she was completely honest with herself, she felt a little exasperated too. If Hermione was going on about this pregnancy like she did, maybe she wasn’t the best person to discuss what Ginny had in mind. Hell, if Ginny had thought about it more, she would have realised that Hermione would see the management side of a third baby more than anything else.

A touch on her shoulder woke her from her musings. “Ginny? You’ve been lost in thought again.” Hermione put down her quill and pushed away the sheet in front of her. “You seem distracted. What’s on your mind?”

She could say that it was nothing. But she needed someone to share her thoughts, and Hermione was the closest friend she had. She would listen. Ginny pushed herself to answer.

“I ... I was thinking about stepping down a little. Maybe even leaving the team.”

Hermione, who had taken up her tea-cup, put it back on the saucer with an audible clang. “You’re what? Why? Why would you want to leave the team?”

Ginny sighed. “It’s all getting ... too much. The boys are still so little, and they need me. Alice – I sometimes wonder what she does with them all day. It seems like she’s only happy when they behave like porcelain dolls. We were lucky that James is so eager to play with Albus, and we don’t know yet if he won’t get jealous if there’s another baby. Alice can’t seem to handle them – I’m not happy any longer to let her handle them.”

“But, if it’s just a question of the nanny, you could get a new one. We tried several until I was happy to leave the children with Maggie.”

“You also had Ron and his flexible hours at the shop.”

Hermione nodded. “That’s true. But, Ginny, you can’t just throw in the towel and leave your career behind. You made it work all those years, and Harry’s so supportive of you, too. You’ll never be able to get back on a team if you give up now, you know that. I don’t get Quidditch, I really don’t, but I’ve seen you on a broom, and I know it makes you happy. Don’t throw it away just because you’re going through a busy period of your life.”

“It’s not just that! It’s not because I don’t like my job any more or because I’m busy. I love playing Quidditch. But I come home most nights too tired to play with my sons. All I do is negotiate with Alice and tell James that things will be better. And the weekends are full up with all the things that didn’t get done. Harry helps, he really tries, but his job is even worse than mine – when I’m not on a tour. I’m not getting to see my boys grow up. And I’m sick of it.”

Ginny came to a halt in her rant. She was breathing fast, and could feel her eyes burn with unshed tears. “I miss them already and they haven’t even left for Hogwarts.”

Hermione handed Ginny her tea. “Here, take a sip. I haven’t seen you this upset in years.”

Ginny wiped her eyes and took the offered cup. “Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “I’d hoped you’d understand.”

Hermione gave her a thoughtful look. “I do. I know how hard it is – even if I don’t tour the world. But the Ministry isn’t exactly the easiest place to have a career and a family at the same time, either. Only I’d never expected you to choose one over the other.” She paused, and then added, “You’ve never been someone to back down easily.”

“This is not about backing down. This is about … I don’t want to feel guilty any longer. And no matter how much I love my career, if I start hating it because I miss my family, maybe it’s time to reconsider my choices.”

Hermione nodded. “I don’t think I could ever make that decision myself. I love my children, and I wouldn’t give them up for anything. But not going to work, not pouring my mind into my projects … I can’t imagine letting that go either.” She sighed deeply. “I try to make the most of the time I have with my family and still run my campaigns. But I’m not telling you that this is how you should do it. It’s your life, and you have to be happy.”

They moved on to other topics. But no matter how much they laughed for the remainder of the afternoon, Ginny couldn’t shake off the feeling that Hermione’s gaze rested on her with a hint of disapproval.

***

She made it through another two weeks, turning around all the arguments in her mind. It was time to let Harry in on the picture.

“Could you make it home tonight earlier than your usual nine o’clock? We need to talk.” Ginny tried to keep the pressing urgency out of her voice, hoping that Harry would get the message even without the drama. 

“Ginny? What is it? Are you all right?” Harry’s face was a blur in the flames – whoever had fixed his fireplace at the Ministry had done a botched job. 

She shook her head. “I’m fine. I just need to talk, and I want us to be still awake while doing it.”

Harry turned to check the papers on his desk, then came back to crouch in front of the fireplace. “I can make it around seven. That’s all right with you?”

Ginny nodded. “Yes, that works. I’ll make us pizza; that’s fast and easy, and we both like it.”

Harry grinned. “Just remember to leave my side free of mushrooms.”

She could do that. That was the easy part.

***

“So, split the beans. What is it you wanted to talk with me about?” Harry set aside his plate and glass, and regarded her over the table, all open eyes and curiosity.

Ginny swallowed. She had no idea how he would take her news. She stood, and took his hand into hers. “Let’s move over to the sofa. It’s more comfortable.”

Harry took the clue and wrapped his arm around her once they were seated. “You know you can tell me everything that’s on your mind. Right?”

“Hmhm.” She drew a deep breath and let it out. “All right. All right. I think ... I think I should quit my job.”

Harry pulled back and turned to look her fully in the face. “Come again?”

“I think I should quit my job.” She felt steadier saying it a second time. “I want to stay home with the children.”

“Wow. That’s ... I ...” Harry ran a hand through his hair, messing it up completely. It was a left-over gesture from his days at Hogwarts, and today he only used it when he was completely at loss what to think or say. 

Ginny waited for him to catch up.

“That’s not what I expected. Why the sudden change of mind?”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t so sudden. I’ve been thinking about it for a few weeks now.”

Harry snorted. “And you only thought to let me in on your plans now? Why exactly?”

Ginny’s eyebrows drew together. “It’s not something I take lightly. I needed to be sure. And I’ve realised that I’m losing too much time on my job. Time I want to spend with the children.”

“The /i>job! You talk about it as if you were a copy-witch at the Ministry, not the Holyhead Harpie’s star Seeker. It’s the job you love, the job you worked hard to get. The job, if I’m allowed to mention it, that you fought me over ever since we talked about having children.” 

Harry’s voice had begun to rise and Ginny felt her own temper rise accordingly.

“I never said that I didn’t like my career. It’s not just a _job_. That’s exactly why this isn’t an easy decision. But I basically run from one task to the other these days, and it’s not working. I’m neither here nor there, and I don’t want it any more. I want to see my children grow up, especially with a third one on the way!”

Harry’s face twisted with an emotion so fierce that Ginny couldn’t even begin to identify it. “Now you suddenly don’t want it anymore? I’ve been bending over backwards to accommodate your career during all those years, and now you’re telling me you haven’t been happy?” 

“Of course I’ve been happy. I know what you did to support me, and I’m grateful for it. But the situation’s on a slide. You spend more and more time on your job, and you can’t cut down. And I’ have to do the same. We’re invited to join the International Friendship Cup and that means extra training and more travelling. I can’t manage that on top of being pregnant. But it runs deeper. I need a change. I want out.”

Harry had leaned back a little into the sofa, calming down and listening while Ginny listed her reasons. He messed up his hair some more. “I still can’t understand why you think that all our solutions won’t hold up to a third child. You’ve every help we could think of. Most witches would be happy if they didn’t have to choose between family and career.”

Ginny took Harry’s hand. “See, I think that this is one of the reasons why I want to quit. Everyone I talked to so far – you, Hermione, Mum, Danna and the girls, even the mediwitch – assumed that I would stay in the job without even asking me what I wanted. I feel like a poster girl for the modern young witch, and I’m sick of it. Maybe you can relate – just a little.”

Harry let out a deep breath. “I know. I hate feeling like that, too. And I never let myself be pressed into situations where I couldn’t be myself, take my own decisions.” He turned his hand and wrapped it around Ginny’s, pressing hard. “You know you can’t go back, right? Once you’ve left the team, they won’t take you back. It’s a constant fight to stay on the team, and there are too many young talents waiting to take their chance.”

Ginny’s smile was ninety percent amusement and ten percent sadness. “Hey, who’s the professional Quidditch player? I know how it goes. And I won’t lie and say I’m not going to miss it. But I would miss my children more.”

For a moment, Harry’s grip on her hand grew even stronger, than he released her. “All right then. I just wanted to make sure ...”

“I’m sure, Harry. And I’m glad you’re with me.”

_I honestly hope he stands by what he said tonight._

***

Finally, it was Monday morning. Ginny knocked at the old wooden door of the management’s office and pushed down the handle, not waiting for an invitation. Danna had never been one to insist on formalities.

“Danna? Could I talk to you for a minute?”

Danna Shulps looked up from the papers and tables that always cluttered her desk. No one was sure how she managed to keep ahead of the chaos. She was not only ahead, but had slowly and steadily brought the team to a new performance high since her engagement five years back. A woman in her late fifties, Danna somehow had been able to reach the team of young women like no manager before her, and the girls were willing to give everything under her tutelage/leadership.

“What is it, Ginny? You look tense.”

Danna cleared away more clutter from one of the chairs and motioned Ginny to take a seat. That done, she steepled her hands and waited for Ginny to start.

Ginny had never been the type to slowly tear of a band-aid. “We have to talk about my replacement.”

Danna nodded. “It’s good that you mention it. We need to make sure to get you through your pregnancy, prepare Angie so that she’s ready to jump in for you during the International Friendship Cup, and help you to join us back next year as our number one player.” She gave Ginny an open, well-meaning smile. “You’re one of my best players, and I would hate to lose you. I want to help as much as I can.”

Damn Danna. Damn Danna and her honest support. Leaving was hard, but this was making it even harder than Ginny had anticipated.

She shook her head. “Thank you. But, see ... it’s different. I wasn’t talking about a temporary leave.” She swallowed hard. “I’m resigning. For real.” 

“Oh ...,” Danna paused for a moment. “I never expected you come to me with such a request. I mean—”

“What else could I want? I had all the support a woman could wish for? Yes, I guess you could say that.” Ginny gave a bitter little laugh. “Why throw it all away, right?”

Danna shook her head. “No. No, Ginny. That’s not what I was trying to imply. It’s more ... I thought you were happy. Just a few weeks back, when you told the girls and we had our little celebration for you ... you looked like the team ... like it’s your _home_. One of your homes, at least.”

Ginny’s eyes were burning, and she blinked fiercely to maintain her composure. “It’s true. Everything you said is true. But I miss my boys, and I feel torn all the time. They won’t be little forever, and I don’t want to miss them growing up. Do you understand?”

Danna didn’t answer immediately. She remained silent for several moments, obviously collecting her thoughts. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. “I'm not going to pretend that I know anything about raising children. I never wanted them bad enough to think about leaving my career. But I know quite a few players who kept playing both fields, feeling torn all their lives. I understand the desire to be fully behind what you do. And I'd rather lose a great player now to a life where she's happy than in ten years to whatever drug she might take to bear the balancing act.”

It took a load off Ginny’s mind. “Thank you,” she said simply, too relieved for many words.

Danna eyed her with the critical look she wore whenever Ginny suggested a manoeuvre that was too risky for Danna’s taste. “You sure you won’t regret your choice any time soon? Because, you know, if you’re gone longer than a few months, I can’t guarantee you a place on the team anymore. I won’t let you leave giving you a false promise. You get out now, you can tell your career goodbye.”

“I know. And yes, I’m going to miss you all. But I still need to be with my children.”

Danna nodded. “All right then.”

***

The advertisement in _Quidditch Monthly_ caught Ginny’s eye immediately. A witch and wizard gazed eagerly into the sky where Quidditch players dressed in bright team colours zoomed in and out of the picture, while a furiously scribbling pen moved to and fro at the bottom of the page. _You love Quidditch? Make your future in reporting. Join us now at the Daily Prophet’s sport pages!_ read the headline above the picture.

Ginny watched the red-haired witch, with her upturned face and enthusiastic gesturing. Always a spectator, never a player. And yet, it was a career still connected to the sport. Maybe there would come a time when it didn’t feel like second best to her. But right now, she’d chosen her children. She glanced down at her belly. At twelve weeks, the baby felt like a part of her family already. _You, the boys, Harry and I, we’ll make a hell of team._

She had worked out a plan with Danna, how to best manage the transition. She would coach Angie during the summer, help her train for next season, wean herself off the game. First, they would go over Angie’s dives and analyse the strategies of Stacy Trapman – it was always good to keep track of your opponent, and they would certainly fly against the Comet All-Stars next season. Angie was a decent flyer, but she had to learn to pay more attention to strategy. Ginny felt a smile pull at the corners of her mouth. Angie would be the new Seeker, while Ginny would be at home, just she and her kids. 

_Stay-at-home-mum_ – it sounded old-fashioned and backwards. _Supporter of future generations_ – Ginny giggled – sounded like it was taken directly from one of Hermione’s pamphlets. She shrugged and rested her hand on the light swelling. _I’m me. And that’s all I need to be._

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt no 35: _I hadn't been aware that there were doors closed to me until I started knocking on them._ Gertrude B. Elion, American biochemist, pharmacologist and winner of the 1988 Nobel Prize in Medicine (with George Hitchings and Sir James Black). First woman inducted into the National Inventors Hall of Fame. Winner of the National Medal of Science for Chemistry in 1991. Winner of the Lemelson-MIT Lifetime Achievement Award in 1997. Among the drugs she developed were: 6-mercaptopurine, the first effective drug to fight leukemia; azathioprine, the first immuno-suppressant, and used in organ transplants and autoimmune diseases (such as Crohn's, multiple sclerosis, autoimmune hepatitis, etc.); and pyrimethamine, a drug used to combat malaria and also used to treat immunocompromised individuals, such as those with HIV.
> 
> Many thanks to celta_diabolica for the awesome beta and motivational support. The name of Ginny's manger was stolen from Supernatural, no harm intended.
> 
> A few years ago, I talked with a woman about life choices. She was angry at people who felt the need to tell her that her choice to be a mother of three was a “waste” of her education and time. And it made me think about what it means to be a woman today, and if the option of running the full race of family, career and beauty contests has not got turned into an obligation already - just a different kind of norm than the traditional one, but a norm nevertheless. Anyway, this is where the idea to twist around the concept of closed doors came from.
> 
> Originally written for Femgenficathon in 2011. Thank you to everyone who read the story and commented with words of support.


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